Eight years ago, I wasn’t looking for a dog. I was just doing my job, the books at a local bar and grill, and in limps this grizzeled black mutt. It was 90 degrees outside on a Sunday afternoon and only a handfull of regular customers were at the bar, so I got a dish of water for the poor thing and let him catch a nap on the dance floor. An hour later I am tring to get the dog to get out, but he keeps backing up, just out of range, looking very tired and extremely scared. I grab some ham from the kitchen and slowly coax him over to me.

And it happend.

The scared look goes out from his eyes and is replaced with one of such longing and need that I cry now just thinking about it. So I load him up in my car and drive him to my small empty apartment. My husband and I have just separated, so no one can say no to this brilliant idea. (Except, of course, the landlord, but what he doesn’tknow won’t hurt anything but my chance of getting the security deposit back)

When I call the local shelter they tell me they are pretty full...the owners will
probably call...leave my number and he’ll get home soon. So I do. And I place the found dog ad in the local paper, call all the vets in the area. Next day I take him to the vet down the street, where I find out that what I thought was an old dog that had wandered off to die turns out to be a 9 month old pup, near death from malnutrition. The vet says he’s probably been living off garbage can leavings and maybe some squirrels, but if he doesn’t get some TLC right now, he’s going to die in a few days. I tell him to bag up the antibiotics and flea meds.

Now, mind you, I havn’t owned a dog since I was 15 years old, and that was
actually my dad’s dog, but off I go to buy some dog food and a bed for him. (Wasted the money on the bed...apparently mine was just right for him) I figure I can foster him untill I either find his owners or a good home. The owner of the bar is pretty understanding- he let’s me bring the dog to my office everyday. All this time I keep looking for the perfect home for Roscoe. (Yes, I’ve named him...I had to call him something!) 3 months go by and I am still looking for that perfect home...

"The nice lady with the farm seems nice, but how well do we really know her?”
And “Pick-up truck guys seems okay, and you get along with his terrier, but he drinks quite a bit, and early in the morning...We’ll keep looking Roscoe, ok buddy?”

A month later, out to the back alley of work so Roscoe can do his thing, and I hear someone yelling “Duke! Duke! C’mere Duke!” Out to the road to see a lady, still in a robe at 4:00 in the afternoon, her 2 year old in his diapers sitting in the middle of the street, and she's chasing Roscoe around!

I ask her “Is this your dog?”

“Well, kind of ...” She replies.“We used to feed him scraps and stuff. The old tennats left him when they moved out.”

“Why didn’t you call me?...I put an ad in the paper and my number was listed with the
shelter...”I ask.

“Oh, I just thought my ex-husband had killed him or something...seemed
like something he would do.” She says as Roscoe cowers from her behind my legs.

My jaw drops. Did she really just say that? Is she kidding me? She must be kidding me.

I look at her and realize she is not kidding me.

“Thanks for looking out for him." she says. "You can come visit him any time.”

“I’m sorry, but he’s my dog now...Don’t you think that would be better...I mean, if your ex is like that and all...Come on, Rosc...let’s go..”

And go we did! That is the day I finally realized I had already found a place for Roscoe.

A year later we’re in a new home, a house on a quiet street with a big back
yard for Roscoe, new job, new boyfreind Mike, and life is good. Enter Gator, the cat, adopted from a coworker who has too much going on with an autistic child to take care of her mean and crazy 9 month old Siamese. All it takes is a week and Roscoe and Gator are the best of freinds. The cat LOVES Roscoe, and Roscoe tolerates this. He sits patienly while Gator perfects the killing pounce on his neck. He licks Gaotor’s face while his muzzel gets chewed on. He even gives up his coveted sleeping place on the end of the bed and moves to the floor at night. The two of them spend hot summer days under the shade of the huge chestnut tree together.

Six years have gone by, and we are all happy and living together in a bigger
place, with 2 more cats, and Roscoe and Gator are playing chase. I notice Roscoe tires quickly, and he seems to not be eating well these last few days, so we decide to call the vet in the morning for his check up. But during the night Roscoe can’t hold down water, is getting weaker and weaker...Has he gotten into something?

We are at the vet’s office door when they show up in the morning, demanding to be seen NOW.

Bring him in....

Yellow eyes, jaundice.
Xrays show the liver is completely covered by a tumor.
Could do a biopsy, but probably won’t live through the surgery.
Nothing we could have done to see this coming.
Nothing we can do to stop this.
Nothing we can do.
Nothing.

Six months later, and I am still not over it. I am never going to get another dog! And to make matters worse, Gator has been yowling all day and night for months. Is he sick too? “No” says the vet, “he’s healthy...Lost a little weight, but physically fine...”

Gator has been gone for 2 days. I'm worried sick. I go on to the Humane Society web site to look for him. There he is! Wait... no... that’s a girl...She looks just like him! The phone rings and it’s our old neighbor saying Gator is in the back yard of our old house, the one on the quiet street with a big yard for Roscoe.

Off to get Gator. He's sitting in the shade of the huge chestnut tree. He cries pitifully as I load him in the car to bring him back home.

Later that night I think to show Mike the picture of the girl Gator.

Doesn’t it look just like him? I'd swear it was him! Well, while were on here, let's click on the dog section...

Not looking for a dog, but let’s just see...

“MEOW” screams Gator, tapping at the computer screen. “MEOW MEOW MEOW!"

We’ve had a good run at the park today, but Lurcher is not too tired to play chase with Gator when we get home.

Isn’t it amazing what you can find when you’re not looking?

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If you enjoyed this story, please make a donation to your local animal shelter. Or better yet, go there not looking for a new pet.